


Stay the Night

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5239115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis knows he should leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt, "Aramis stays for the night for the first time. And he's so afraid that Porthos will throw him away when he finds out."

Porthos gives him a sleepy smile, cheek cushioned to the pillow. Aramis gives him a regrettably, utterly soppy look back, knowing that Porthos will likely not remember it as he drops off into sleep, one arm curled loosely around his middle. It isn’t the first time this has happened – usually Aramis visits him late into the night, after all the other musketeers are asleep, when Porthos’ moves are loose and lucid, drunk on sleep and on the smiles he gives Aramis – or, rather, Aramis is drunk on those looks, on the touch of his hands upon his body, on the way he seems to curl into him afterwards.

Aramis always leaves. It’s the way it has to be, after all. He can’t be found missing from his bed, can’t let himself want more than he’s allowed. He knows that Porthos understands, in his own way – he doesn’t ever bring it up in daylight hours, but his smile is always gentled when they meet in quiet, private moments surrounded by all the others. Porthos is too good of a man for Aramis. Aramis will never be good enough for him. 

Tonight, though, he is bone-tired. It aches in his body, the way his legs ache from holding himself up over Porthos, ache from riding him, Porthos’ hands hot on his hips and back like a brand – and he’d never say the words, never tell Porthos that he belongs to him, because he knows how charged those words could become for someone like Porthos – but it’s the truth all the same. He would happily lay himself down and never move, if he were to be enveloped in his arms forever.

He can’t sleep tonight, though. He isn’t moving. He knows he should leave. Instead, he turns, curls, slips into Porthos’ space, his cheek pressing to Porthos’ chest – hearing and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the thud of his heart. He closes his eyes. He lets himself have this, if only for a night. He knows it will end – he knows that he will have to leave, eventually. That Porthos will rise early and push him away, push him out, and that will be the end of it. For now, though, he lets himself have this. A moment of peace. A moment of fantasy. Happiness.


End file.
